


anchorage

by itsmylifekay



Series: i'd be your anchor but i'm scared you'd drown [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Steve Rogers as the Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:26:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2212266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmylifekay/pseuds/itsmylifekay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky and Steve beginning the process of settling Steve into the tower and a new life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	anchorage

 

\---+---+---+---

 

“You got everything, Steve?” Bucky asked, pulling his own bag over his shoulder and reaching for another lying on the bed. He and Steve had been staying in Asgard for the past month or so, taking advantage of Thor’s hospitality and the safety of being quartered in his shadow, but today they were returning to Earth. New York, to be exact, back to the city to stay in Stark’s tower where Steve could hopefully start getting used to civilian life.

“I don’t _have_ anything, Buck.”

Well, Bucky was never expecting it to be easy.

“Sure you do,” Bucky said. He walked over to where Steve was sitting by the window, curled up on a chair made for men three times his size with his bangs hanging limp across his forehead. “You have the clothes Thor gave you, the sketchpad and pencils I got you a few weeks back. I’m sure Thor would let you take any of the things from our room that you like, too.” He gave Steve a playful nudge on the shoulder. “Particularly attached to a pillow or anything, Rogers?”

Steve remained staring out into the sky. “I’m not taking anyone else’s things.”

The words were something Bucky would expect from Steve, but the blank look on his face as he said them had none of the old fire and determination Bucky remembered. It was like Steve knew what he was supposed to say, but didn’t know the reason why.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Well, they were given to you. So technically they _are_ your things. But you’re probably right, Asgardian clothes aren’t exactly in style back on Earth. We’ll get you some new ones once we’re there.”

Steve didn’t say anything and Bucky let out a sigh. He’d have better luck tomorrow, hopefully. (He tried not to dwell on the fact that that’s what he’d been telling himself for the past few months.)

“I guess it’s time to go then. Don’t want to keep our hosts waiting.”

Steve slid off the chair without a word and went to the door, pushing it open and heading out into the hall without looking back. Or grabbing the small bag Bucky had prepared for him.

And sure, Bucky could let the clothes thing go. Because realistically Steve _wasn’t_ going to have much need of Asgardian garb back in the city. But the sketchpad was another thing entirely. That was a part of Steve’s life that Bucky wasn’t just going to let him throw away. So he plucked it from Steve’s bag and packed it in his own instead.

“Buck?” Steve’s voice came from the hallway. “You coming?”

Bucky flinched. As much as neither of them liked to admit, Bucky could in fact hear the fear and uncertainty in Steve’s voice. Steve was trying so hard to be independent, but he still depended heavily on Bucky’s guidance. He often became confused and unstable if left without direction for too long. And Bucky hardly felt it time to start switching plans beneath Steve’s feet.

Double checking the room and adjusting the bags on his shoulders, he let himself take one last glance at the tiny space where he had watched Steve fall apart and piece himself back together again. There was heartbreak in the pillows, tearstains in the sheets, and a glimmer of hope just outside the window. Or at least that’s what he liked to think, seeing how Steve liked sitting by it so much.

Maybe he could even convince Steve to draw him a picture of the view someday.

But, as he walked out into the hall and put a reassuring arm around Steve’s small shoulders, he knew that that day was probably a long way off.

\---+---+---+---

The rest of the Avengers were waiting for them when they arrived. Not in an obvious, everyone huddled in one place kind of way, but rather in an everyone scattered faux casually around the room kind of way. Bucky found it amusingly endearing. The whole world thought they were some kind of tough group of super heroes when in reality they were just a bunch of awkward nerds.

But, Steve didn’t know that yet.

Steve just saw a room with six semi-strangers and the entire panoramic view of modern New York. He tensed immediately against Bucky’s side and reached for a nonexistent thigh holster, clenching his hand into a fist when he remembered his situation. He leaned further into Bucky’s side.

“It’s alright, Stevie.” Bucky murmured into Steve’s ear, leaning down to hide their conversation from the rest of the room. “No one here is going to do anything you don’t want them to do.” He eyed Stark on the far side of the room. “Except maybe Tony, but only because he’s an idiot. He’s actually harmless.”

Steve just nodded woodenly and Bucky could tell how hard he was trying not to clasp at his shoulder, a move that would draw the eyes of everyone in the room to his weak point. He was still thinking defensively and it pained Bucky to see. But he’d known to expect it and so had the others, so he just put his own hand over Steve’s shoulder and lead them their first step away from Thor and into the rest of the room. “This is the penthouse.” Bucky explained, deciding to ramble to hopefully distract Steve from some of his stress. “There’s a great view of the city, a stocked bar, and a home theater system that will blow your mind. We’ve already decided to declare Wednesday as movie night so you’ll be up here at least once a week. Probably more.”

Steve’s eyes were flicking all over the room, taking in each area as Bucky pointed it out and studiously ignoring all of the people sitting there.

Bucky took him to the window and angled them so they were looking out over the city. Their backs were to the rest of the room, but he made sure to keep himself between Steve and anyone he could possibly perceive as a threat. He bent down to rest his chin on the top of Steve’s head, pulling Steve tight into the protective curve of his chest. “Do you remember everyone?” He asked softly.

He could feel Steve nod his head, then looked up just in time to see Steve’s gaze sweep mechanically around the room through the window’s reflection. “Natalia Alianovna Romanova, the Black Widow. Clint Barton, Hawkeye. Bruce Banner, the Hulk. Pepper Potts and Tony Stark of Stark Industries. All SHIELD. Sam Wilson, Falcon, Veterans Affairs. And Thor Odinson of Asgard, allied with the self-named ‘Avengers’.”

Steve shuddered against him, eyes blinking back into focus and voice going soft as he finished the recitation. “James Buchanan Barnes, new Captain America, SHIELD. Steven Grant Rogers…Winter Soldier.” He choked on the last word and took in a shaky breath, obviously preparing to continue. “H-Hy…” He went silent, then scrambled at Bucky’s arms, chest heaving as he looked wildly around the room for a threat he couldn’t see. “Bucky,” he whispered frantically, voice rising to a shout. “Bucky, please. Please! Don’t le-”

Then he collapsed, going horribly still in Bucky’s arms.

“Steve?” Bucky knelt down and cradled Steve effortlessly into his chest, trying to prop his head up into the curve of his neck. “Steve? You with me, pal?”

There was no answer from Steve and the rest of the Avengers had gone quiet as well. Finally, he stood, keeping Steve sheltered and hidden against his body.

“I’m so sorry, James.” Pepper said gently. This wasn’t the reaction any of them had wanted. But they couldn’t say they were surprised. “Is there anything we can do?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, I think it’d be best if I just took him to bed. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

“We’ll be here.”

Everyone murmured their agreement at Pepper’s words and Bucky felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude for the makeshift family around him. He wasn’t alone in this. And as the elevator doors slid open and shut around him, leaving him with nothing but his thoughts and Steve’s prone form, he could never be more thankful.

\---+---+---+---

Bucky sifted his fingers through Steve’s hair, watching the way the sunlight hit it and turned it almost silver. It was longer than Steve used to keep it, loosely falling around his ears, but it still hadn’t reached past his chin. When Steve had first come back, it had been tangled and scraggly, but with a little convincing Steve had allowed Bucky to wash and comb it back to a soft sheen. Bucky gave the strands another loose tug with his fingers. He’d have to ask Pepper for some hair ties…Steve would probably like getting the hair out of his face.

He scratched his nails down the nape of Steve’s neck. Steve’s skin was soft and pale and he realized with a start how easily he was marking it, little red trails along Steve’s spine. He pulled his hand away and Steve grumbled sleepily against his chest.

“Buck…” He pushed his head further into Bucky’s nightshirt, hand scrunching the fabric at Bucky’s side. “Feels good.” Bucky laid a cautious hand back on Steve’s head. Steve hummed and nuzzled closer. Then he froze, going tense as he realized what was happening.

“Hey, hey,” Bucky hushed. “It’s okay. I’m glad it feels good. I like playing with your hair.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and his breathing accelerated, but he didn’t move away from Bucky’s side. Bucky could only imagine what was going through his head.

“Buck, I-” He jerked against Bucky’s chest then let out a whimper. “It’s not allowed. Not allowed, please.” He cried out in pain and scrabbled at Bucky’s chest.

Bucky sat up quickly, pulling Steve with him then reaching down to grab his legs, getting him firmly situated in his lap to try to control the squirming. He put one palm to the side of Steve’s face. “Steve? Steve, you there?” He started rubbing his other hand up and down Steve’s back. “It’s alright, Stevie. It’s alright. You’re gonna be okay.”

They sat there for an unknown number of minutes, Bucky rocking Steve gently and murmuring reassurances in his ear.

Steve still struggled admitting he wanted or even needed things on a good day, not to mention mornings were always some of the hardest times for him, a hazy grey area where he didn’t always know what was real and who to trust. And the change in location probably wasn’t helping him figure out what was happening either. The combination had obviously sent Steve back to a bad place.

Finally, Steve took in a gasping breath and his eyes fluttered open. “Bucky?”

Bucky let out a sigh of relief. “Yeah, Steve. It’s me.”

“What happened?” Steve asked groggily, trying to sit up but ending slumped into Bucky’s chest regardless. Being snapped between headspaces always wore him out.

“I don’t know.” Bucky said. “A flashback, maybe? You can’t remember?” Steve started to shake his head and Bucky absentmindedly smoothed a hand up the back of his neck, stopping when Steve shuddered against him.

“They- I-” Steve started then stopped.

Bucky cuddled him closer. “Did you remember something?”

Steve’s face closed off and he shook his head, pulling away from Bucky’s arms. “There’s nothing to remember.” He wrapped his own arm around himself and extricated himself from Bucky’s lap, swinging his legs off the side of the bed.

Bucky tried to ignore the way his heart had plummeted. “Well, then do you maybe want something to eat? Or drink? Or we could just go watch a movie or something.”

Pulling one of the blankets from the bed along with him, Steve trudged over to the puffy leather chair Bucky had moved to the window the night before and climbed onto the cushion, curling his legs under him with a kind of grace he never used to have. He wedged himself far into the back of the chair and turned his head to stare out the window.

Bucky was dismissed, then.

With a heavy sigh he stood up and left the room, making his way upstairs to hopefully find something to eat and someone else to talk to. And he was in luck, everyone else was already upstairs with mugs of coffee in hand, and judging by the smell they hadn’t all gathered for nothing. Turning the corner, he could see Clint was busy making pancakes on the stove while Bruce cut up some fruit and Sam scrambled some eggs. And, heaven of all heavens, Thor was frying up bacon.

He let out an obscene groan as he approached the counter. “That smells so fucking good. You guys are the best.” He sprawled artfully across Tony’s zillion-dollar countertop and didn’t move until a warm mug was pushed against his cheek.

“You’ll need to stay awake if you want to eat around here.” Pepper smiled down at him and Bucky pushed himself up on an elbow to take a grateful sip, then sat up to take a larger gulp.

He cradled the mug to his chest when he’d finished. “Sweet, sweet caffeine.” He glanced over to Pepper and smiled sheepishly. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem.” She smiled back and sat gingerly on the bar stool next to him. Bucky was about to say something else, start up some small talk about the weather, when Sam interrupted from across the kitchen.

“For a minute there I thought we’d have to give you two a moment alone.” Sam smirked and gave the eggs another stir. “That’s a serious relationship you got going with that coffee there, man.”

Bucky huffed and pulled his mug closer, making a show of catching his lip on the ceramic rim before taking another drink. Making out with a cup wasn’t the finest of his moments but it did wonders to relax some of the tension in his shoulders, especially when Sam made a disgusted face and shook his head.

“That’s just wrong on so many levels.”

Bucky smirked into his drink, but the look quickly fell when he noticed the extra empty mug sitting on the counter. He sighed and laid his forehead against the counter.

“I take it Steve won’t be joining us then?” Pepper asked softly. Bucky shook his head and she let out a sympathetic noise before rubbing circles between his shoulder blades. “But he’s okay? Since you’re up here?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, forcing himself up to his elbows and pulling his hands across his face. “He just wanted to be alone.”

There was a beat of silence where everyone took in the information then Clint slid the first plate of pancakes down Bucky’s way. And they weren’t just any pancakes. They were fucking _bear_ pancakes, with little pancake ears and chocolate chip eyes and strawberry slice mouths. The pat of butter was even shaped like a bowtie.

Bucky pulled out his phone and snapped a picture. “Wow, Barton. Really outdid yourself this time.”

“Hey,” Clint turned around and pointed the spatula in Bucky’s direction. “Make fun of the pancakes and they get taken away. Got it?”

“Hell yeah.” Bucky saluted and promptly went about demolishing the cute little arrangement, letting out a grunt of thanks when Sam scooped eggs onto his plate and rolling his eyes when Natasha dumped a handful of fruit beside them with a stern look of _you’re-eating-these-because-they’re-good-for-you-and-any-complaints-or-comments-will-result-in-bodily-harm_. By the end of breakfast, Bucky was well and truly stuffed. And from the satisfied looks around the room, so was everyone else.

They all at least waited until the plates had been cleared before making it awkward and tense again. Sam finally cleared his throat and asked, “So, what exactly happened last night? Anything we need to be aware of?”

“No,” Bucky shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “It was my fault. I should’ve known better than to ask him something like that when he was already uncomfortable. Sounded too much like an order.” The tension in the room didn’t fade and Bucky’s brow furrowed. “Or did you mean something else?”

Natasha was the one who answered. “Steve knew about all of us, which is something that needs to be discussed in and of itself. But I think what we’re most concerned with is what Steve said about himself.”

_Steven Grant Rogers, Winter Soldier…_

“If he still identifies with the Winter Soldier, that’s one thing. But he also started to say Hydra. That’s not something we should ignore.”

“But he didn't say it.” Bucky defended. “He started to but stopped himself when he realized what was going on. _I_ put him in the wrong headspace, but _he_ got himself out. That’s a goodthing.”

“Maybe,” Sam conceded, face all business. “But the fact that you could put him there in the first place _isn’t_ good. At all. And when he stopped saying Hydra and he changed it to your name instead…” Sam shook his head worriedly. “If that was him calling out for help, then it’s not too big a deal. Something we can work with. But if that was him changing alliances, then you need to be careful. If Steve doesn’t learn to act autonomously then he’ll always be in danger of getting controlled by someone else.”

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and tried to think rationally. Sam had a point, sure, but… “He listed all of us as having ‘alliances’ or whatever. I don’t think it’s the huge thing you guys are making of it.”

“Just think about it, Bucky. Please.” Sam sighed. “The dude’s been through a lot, the same rules that apply to us don’t necessarily apply to him. We work with people because we _choose_ to. He’s not used to having that luxury. We’re not even sure he remembers what it is, or how to tell the difference.”

And at that, Sam had him. Because yeah Steve had gone to Bucky on his own, but only because his mind had registered Bucky as his handler. He made some choices on his own, such as kicking Bucky out of the room earlier, but Bucky also knew that if he were to override those he’d get no fight on that matter. And that wasn’t like Steve at all. Steve hated being condescended to or told what to do, and it hurt Bucky every time Steve literally _asked_ him for it, looking to Bucky to know he was allowed to do something, go somewhere. Hell, he even checked in before he _ate,_ before he _slept._

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, I see your point. But what’re we supposed to do? We can’t just ask him.” He was met with silence and Sam staring at him with an expectant look on his face. “You’re kidding me.”

“It’s worth a shot.” Sam shrugged. “Besides, it’s kind of my job, talking to people about things that bother them. And he’d get free in home service, can’t ask for much more than that.”

\---+---+---+---

“So, Steve, anything in particular you want to start with? Or do you just want me to just ask questions?”

Steve lifted his tiny shoulders in a shrug, staring out the window the same way he’d been since Sam had first walked into the room. (Bucky’d told him that Steve liked to do that a lot, so he didn’t take it personal.) There was a pile of blankets around Steve, like a cocoon or maybe a wall, and Sam didn’t miss the fact that they were arranged the thickest around Steve’s missing arm and the area directly in Sam’s line of sight. They were Steve’s form a protection. Flimsy, but all he had.

Sam was, however, allowed in the room with Bucky just outside the door, so he was going to consider the situation better than he’d hoped.

“I’ll just make it easy, ask you some simple questions. And remember, you don’t have to talk about anything you’re uncomfortable with. This is just our first day, so you don’t need to push yourself.”

Steve nodded once and brought both knees up to his chest. Already defensive, then.

“Well, first I’d like you to tell me why I’m here.” Steve shot him a quick look then turned back to the window. Sam continued on regardless. “And I’m not talking about some box answer of ‘to help’ or ‘that’s your job’ or whatever else. I’m talking about why you let me in this room. Because I know you didn’t have to. And I know you don’t have to be sitting here listening to me right now. So why? Why am I here?”

There was a long stretch of silence where Steve didn’t even look his way, just kept his eyes firmly trained out the window, and Sam began to wonder if maybe Steve wasn’t interested in talking at all. And that was understandable. Sam could only imagine the trust issues the poor man probably had going on.

“Bucky.”

Sam jerked his head back up at the name, but there was nothing to see. Steve hadn’t moved at all. “Bucky…” He repeated slowly. “What about him?”

Steve blinked then finally turned in Sam’s direction. “Which question am I supposed to answer?”

Sam stopped at that, rubbing at the bridge of his nose before saying, “Both, I guess. If I’m here because of Bucky, then I’d like to know more about that. Like what about Bucky has me here?”

“He’s a good man.”

Steve’s answer was quick and earnest, probably said with the most confidence Sam had seen since they’d gotten him back. But he still didn’t know what it had to do with the question. Sam nodded anyway, hoping Steve would have more to say. “Yeah, I’d agree with that.”

“Bucky…is a good man.” Steve said again, brow furrowing down the middle. The blanket around his shoulders fell as he adjusted position but he made no move to put it back in place. Instead, he gripped his hand into the fabric of what Sam now realized was one of Bucky’s shirts and held on tight. “He deserves better, always has. I figure I can at least give him this.”

Sam lifted an eyebrow. “This?”

“The answer to your question.” Steve said. He turned to look Sam in the eyes. “Why you’re here.”

And of course, of course it had to be something like that. It couldn’t be something _healthy_ like Steve doing it for his own happiness or wellbeing or peace of mind. Heck, he wasn’t even doing it for Bucky in the way everyone had expected (Steve believing Bucky somehow expected it or that it was required of him). No, he was doing it because he felt like Bucky _deserved better._ Deserved something better than what Steve was then. And that was bull. Sam didn’t even need to ask Bucky to know that the other man would be furious to hear what Steve was saying.

Still, he tried to keep his voice level as he clarified, “I’m here because you think it’d be best for Bucky?”

Steve got this scrunched up, exasperated look on his face and for a moment Sam understood Bucky’s stories of a past filled with stubbornness and sass. “My brain may’ve been fried but I’m not stupid.” Steve said. “I know I’m broken. Thought you were supposed to help fix me. Or at least get the job done faster.”

Sam sat forward in his chair and laced his fingers together. That little rant was the longest string of words he’d ever heard Steve put together and he was happy Steve was finally talking… but the content was something else entirely. “You’re not broken, Steve. Somebody hurt you and you need a little help healing, sure. But you’re not broken.”

Steve just looked at him quietly for a moment before turning back to the window. The blanket was pulled up around his shoulders again and Sam knew right then and there that Steve was done for the day. So he stood up and took his leave, holding the door open for Bucky so he could slip through and ask Steve in a hushed voice if he wanted to go to bed (it was only one in the afternoon but any sleep they could get Steve to take was a gift).

But at least Sam knew a little better what he was working with. And he knew that the first step to helping Steve, was to convince him to help himself.

\---+---+---+---

If there was one thing that Bucky had always known in his early life with Steve it was fear. Fear that a fever would finally take him, fear that an asthma attack would steal his last breath, fear that his heart would give out during a fight... The doctors had never been shy about telling him Steve was a miracle (or a curse, but they never visited those doctors again) and that by all rights he shouldn’t have even made it out of early childhood. But Steve had made it, he was an adult, and every winter when Steve went down with a fever Bucky would have to listen to doctors telling him it was the end, to not expect Steve to make it. But somehow Steve always did.

When Steve had become Captain America, that had been a different kind of fear entirely. That had been a fear of bullets and grenades and crazy bastards with god complexes. It was a fear they had shared together, looking out for each other with a desperation few others could understand.

But the fear he had associated with the Winter Soldier, that had been the most terrifying of all. Because that was the fear that he would never get Steve back again. And Bucky wouldn’t have been able to live with that.

He shifted his gaze to the side and took in Steve’s form on the bed, almost entirely obscured by blankets with just his mouth and nose sticking out of the covers, and had to suppress the urge to get up and crawl under there with him, pull him close and never let go. He had stared one of his oldest fears in the face last night and he still felt shaken to the core.

Because Steve had had an asthma attack, the first since he’d changed back, and for a horrifying moment, neither of them had known what to do.

Then Bucky’s instincts had cut in and he’d been rubbing at Steve’s back, helping him to sit up and urging him to breath. (Steve had remembered afterwards the heaviness in his lungs and the way his throat would constrict at the most inopportune of times.)

But it had been a slap in the face for Bucky. How could _he_ not have remembered? Even back before the war he’d always been careful to keep some of Steve’s medicine around, or at least have enough money set aside in case they had to go and buy some. But he didn’t even know what medicine to buy in this day and age. For all he knew, the medical practices of the early 1900s could’ve missed even more problems in Steve. What they’d always thought was sensitivity to food could be some weird disease and if Bucky gave him the wrong thing, because food was so different now and Bucky knew what Steve could eat _then_ but not anymore, and Steve got sick or god forbid he _died_ -

With shaking hands, Bucky stood up from his chair and paced out into the hallway, pulling out his phone and punching in a number he knew would be able to help. After just two rings, a crisp voice asked over the line, “Bucky? Is everything alright?”

“I- yes, yeah nothing is in immediate danger of blowing up or anything.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair as Pepper breathed a sigh of relief. “But, I do need your help.”

“Do you want me to come down to your floor?”

Bucky swallowed and glanced back at the door he had just come through. Steve could be a bit unpredictable when he first woke up…

“Or we could meet in the kitchen, I’ll have Jarvis start some coffee.”

“Yeah, that’d probably be better. I’ll just leave Steve a note then head up.”

“See you in a few minutes, then.” Pepper said.

Bucky caught sight of the time (5:45) as he ended the call and winced, praising the lord for the unshakable Pepper Potts as he threw on some more acceptable clothes.

When he set a post-it down on the bedside table Steve didn’t even stir, staying an immobile lump of blankets in the center of the bed even as Bucky gave him one last cursory check before slipping out the door. Pepper was already pulling two mugs down from the cupboard when he got upstairs.

“Sleep well?” She asked, then took in his face and sighed. “Or at all?”

Bucky shrugged and gratefully accepted the mug she slid his way. “I got a few hours in. Steve’s still sleeping.”

Pepper’s face softened. “So it took awhile to get him down?”

“No, he actually managed to fall asleep pretty quickly.” Bucky took a drink of his coffee, needing the caffeine for the conversation to come. “But he, uh, he got woken up around two. We both did.”

“I’m assuming that it wasn’t just a nightmare?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, he had an asthma attack.” He turned the mug in his hands and stared down at the dark liquid inside. “He always did get ‘em real bad growing up. Can’t believe I didn’t think ahead and have something planned. But I- I don’t even know what people with asthma _do_ these days.”

Pepper let out an understanding hum, “So you called me.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d probably be the best to ask.” Bucky said. He needed this to go absolutely perfectly and if there was one person he knew who could get a job done with a ruthless kind of efficiency it was Mrs. Potts.

She sat down opposite him and wrapped her hands delicately around her own mug. “I’m glad that you feel you can trust me. But, are you sure Steve would be comfortable…?”

“He…So long as you don’t treat him differently for it he won’t care. That’s how it always was. He was never ashamed of it, just got upset when people thought he was weak because his immune system was shit or his back wasn’t quite straight. And besides, right now he’d rather someone else take care of things for him. Which I can’t do in this case. And since I trust you, he’d trust you.”

Pepper nodded thoughtfully. “So it’s more than just the asthma then?”

“Yeah,” Bucky laughed hollowly. “His medical sheet was always a mile long.”

They both took a moment to drink their coffee and just stare into the room, Pepper thinking over what Bucky’d said and Bucky resisting the urge to run back downstairs and make sure he was there when Steve woke up.

“And I suppose it’s out of the question that he go see a doctor.”

Bucky rubbed at his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I highly doubt it. Even though that would probably be best. Maybe if someone came here? I don’t know.”

Pepper pursed her lips and was quiet for another few minutes before finally saying, “I know someone who could help. If you could get me Steve’s old medical records, she’d be able to tell us what the best course of action would be.”

Bucky nodded. “Jarvis?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Can you transfer a copy of Steve’s old medical files to Pepper’s personal computer, and whatever notes we have from Thor’s people.”

“Certainly.” Jarvis answered. “Shall I include the information Mr. Rogers has been gathering as well?”

Bucky blinked in surprise. “What information?”

“Mr. Rogers has been measuring his weight every morning. He’s also made notes on the state of his amputated shoulder, nausea, pain, unusual occurrences…just a few minutes ago he added a section on asthma attacks.”

“Yeah, I- Send that too, please.” He pressed his fingers to his temples and bit back a curse. Steve was supposed to _tell_ him if he was uncomfortable. Nausea, pain, and ‘unusual occurrences’ fell under that category. And god forbid his shoulder started acting up and he didn’t tell anyone.

Pepper laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll handle this, Bucky. You should go check on Steve. It sounds like you have a lot to talk about.”

Bucky nodded and stood up, downing the last of his coffee in a few quick gulps. “Thank you, I- yeah, I’ll talk to you later?”

Pepper nodded and then he was off, practically running to the elevator and fidgeting anxiously in place as he descended the necessarily floors. When the doors opened, he rushed towards his and Steve’s bedroom, nearly missing the figure standing in the living area.

“Steve?” He asked cautiously.

Steve turned to him and took a few steps to meet Bucky halfway, allowing Bucky to pull him and the wad of blankets he’d dragged from the bedroom into his chest. “Hey, Buck.” He mumbled.

“Hey yourself, Stevie.” Bucky rubbed at Steve’s back through his makeshift cape then finally realized the pile of stuff sitting in the middle of their floor. “What’s all this?”

Steve shrugged. “Jarvis said Tony left it.”

“Huh, well, any idea what it is?”

Steve shook his head.

“Wanna find out?”

Steve shuffled a bit beneath his blankets, Steve speak for yes he did want to know what the stuff was but he wasn’t sure he was allowed to say that and he was even less sure if he wanted to leave the safety of his blanket fort. (It was always hardest for Steve to be assertive in the morning.) So, Bucky decided to help him along.

“Well, how about I go to the bathroom and you change into some comfortable clothes? Then we can see about what Tony’s left us.”

Steve nodded and five minutes later they were back in the living room, Bucky with an empty bladder and Steve swamped in a pair of Bucky’s sweat pants and even more swamped in one of Bucky’s old t-shirts. (Bucky’d helped him roll the sweatpants up at the ankles and had nearly died when he realized how adorable it all was.)

The stuff itself had Bucky feeling conflicted, he didn’t know whether to coo or feel incredibly awkward. Because it was cute, what Tony had done for Steve. But it was _Tony_ and Bucky didn’t know how he felt about seeing the man’s softer side. Except it was kind of hard to miss when it was scattered all over the carpet.

There were hypo-allergenic sheets, blankets and pillow cases; a vast menagerie of one-handed kitchen implements; rubberized squares with a helpful note that they would keep things from slipping around; a weighted strap to hold open books or notebooks; a de-humidifier; an automatic vacuum that promised not to eat Steve; and a number of other random items that Bucky wasn’t sure what to do with.

Steve didn’t seem to know what to do with _any_ of it. He just kept staring at the things Bucky showed him, staying completely silent as he listened to each one’s explanation. Finally, when Bucky was busy turning over a box for what claimed to be some kind of bathing device but looked more like abstract art, Steve pushed at a stack of instructions with his foot and asked, “Why?”

“Well,” Bucky started, putting the box down and giving Steve his full attention. “I think Tony’s just trying to give you some independence. A lot of this stuff is specifically made for people with only one arm, and the rest is to help with your allergies and asthma I think.” (Because of course Stark already knew about Steve’s asthma, the man probably had Jarvis tell him how they folded their underwear.)

Steve’s brow furrowed down the middle and he took another long look at the items laid out in front of him. Then he looked back at Bucky with a pained, guilty expression on his face. “Did you ask-”

“No,” Bucky cut him off. “No, let me stop you right there. I did not ask him for any of this. This is Tony trying to be nice because Tony shows affection by throwing money at things.” Steve didn’t look entirely convinced so Bucky took the necessary step so he could put his hands on either side of Steve’s face and lock their eyes together, rocking Steve’s head slightly with each word. “I don’t mind taking care of you.”

They were both quiet for a long time, Steve’s eyes flickering between the room and Bucky’s face and Bucky refusing to let Steve go without making sure he understood that Bucky was never _ever_ going to get tired of taking care of him.

“Buck…” Steve’s voice cracked and he slumped forward into Bucky’s arms, burying his face in Bucky’s chest.

“It’s alright, Stevie.” Bucky said gently. “If you want to use some of this stuff, that’s great. But I have no problem doing it for you.”

There was no response except for Steve clinging harder to the fabric at Bucky’s waist. Still, Bucky understood what it meant. Steve was accepting what Bucky said as the truth, but only because he wasn’t in a position to fight him on it.

Bucky rubbed a little at Steve’s back. “You want to watch a movie with me?”

Steve nodded and Bucky led them back to the bedroom, letting Steve hunker down in the bed while he set up the DVD. Then the lights were dimmed and Bucky crawled in next to Steve, lifting an arm for Steve to slide under and smiling into Steve’s soft hair as the opening credits began to play. His phone buzzed on the bedside table.

_From: Pepper Potts_

_Steve’s medicine has been called in and will be delivered tomorrow. Just an inhaler and some vitamins for now. She’d like to see him about his heart problems and the scoliosis. Talk to Steve if he’d be comfortable doing an exam here, with you in the room if he’d prefer._

Bucky glanced down at Steve’s face, the other man’s eyes transfixed on the screen, then typed a quick response.

_To: Pepper Potts_

_Thank you. But I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet. I’ll have to text you later._

He attached a picture of Rapunzel dancing across the screen and their legs tangled on top of the covers, Steve’s entranced expression just visible at the edge of the image.

Pepper’s response was simply a smile.

\---+---+---+---

“If you don’t want to, we don’t have to go.” Bucky said. “I’m sure Thor will understand.”

But Steve shook his head, adamant despite the way his entire body was still shaking.

It had been a bad morning after a very, _very_ bad night. Neither he nor Steve had gotten hardly any sleep, maybe an hour or two between the both of them. The sheets were drenched in sweat from Steve’s night terrors and one of their pillowcases was in the wash, stained with bile from a horrible nightmare that Bucky himself never wanted to relive. (Steve had convulsed silently against the sheets and been completely unresponsive. Bucky had wanted to scream.) And when Steve finally opened bleary eyes it was only to look up at Bucky with a painfully blank expression and ask, “What is the mission?”

So, it had been a bad morning.

Thankfully, Steve was mostly back to normal. He remembered where he was and who he was with, he remembered what had happened to his arm and body, but Bucky could tell he was still on edge. Which is why he was trying to urge Steve to stay in bed, or at the very least relax in their room. But Steve was having none of it.

“I want to see Thor.” He said. No matter what. Every single time.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to eat something first?’

‘I want to see Thor.’

‘You hardly slept last night. Do you want to at least take a nap first?’

‘No, I want to see Thor.’

‘We’ll have to go upstairs with everyone else.’

That at least had given him pause, but only for a moment. Then it was right back to: ‘I want to see Thor.’

So Bucky sighed and gave in. It was a miracle Steve even felt confident enough to make a decision after such a rough night so like hell was Bucky going to make him feel bad for doing it.

“Alright, we’ll see Thor.”

Steve’s triumphant little smile made Bucky even more confident in his decision to endorse Steve’s suddenly assertive attitude. He didn’t know what it was that had Steve so adamant to see Thor, but he figured it had something to do with Thor being the only person besides himself who Steve had really made a connection with. After all, Thor did help Steve during their time on Asgard, and not just with changing Steve’s body back but also looking after him if Bucky needed to be somewhere else (a rare and unwanted occurrence but it happened nonetheless).

But now Bucky was watching Steve hover in the doorway of the elevator, suddenly not quite so confident anymore. Jarvis was blessedly keeping the doors from opening as Steve deliberated.

Then, without any warning besides a sudden deep breath, Steve pushed the ‘open’ button and said a resolute, “I want to see Thor”, stepping out into the common room and heading straight for the couch.

And that was that.

They were going to see Thor.

Everyone else was already in the common room, waiting where Thor would come in after landing on the balcony. Natasha was reading with her feet in Clint’s lap. Tony was working on something with Pepper hovering over his shoulder. And Bruce was in the middle of a conversation with Sam about whatever crime show was playing on TV. Bucky nodded to everyone as they walked by and they all gave Steve plenty of space, Sam the only one to offer Steve a quiet, “Hey man” which Steve responded to with a stilted nod.

It was obvious they were all shocked to see him there at all. They were all aware of the turmoil of the previous night. Hell, Natasha had helped Bucky strip down the bed. Clint had brought fresh clothes to the bathroom when Bucky was trying to rinse Steve off.

They all knew. And they had all been apprehensive about Steve’s reaction to Thor’s visit.

Bucky just shrugged at their curious glances then turned to help Steve settle on the couch, making sure the knotted sleeve of his sweatshirt wasn’t digging into Steve’s back and the blanket was tucked firmly over Steve’s bare feet. Then he flopped down beside him and turned to Bruce and Sam, “So, you both realize it was the mailman, right?”

He smirked as the two other men went off about how it was _obviously_ the husband and unobtrusively tucked Steve closer to his side. He breathed in the softness of Steve’s hair as he was given a lecture on forensics and drama and _irony._

At the end of the episode, it was the mailman who did it. And Bucky couldn’t help but smile as the other two gaped at the screen. Steve smiled softly into his chest, half asleep with his cheek smushed against the fabric.

“We’ve got cloud movement!” Clint suddenly called out, looking for a moment like he was going to stand and go to the window but sunk back down when he realized Natasha’s feet were still in his lap.

Tony didn’t glance up from his work. “I hope he’s traveling God-of-Thunder style because if he gets those Asgardian doodles all over my balcony it’ll mess up the feng shui.”

“Energy readings indicate he is not traveling with the bifrost, sir.” Jarvis helpfully put in from the ceiling. “And he has just come within range of the security cameras, he should arrive momentarily.”

No sooner had Jarvis finished did Thor land with a thud on the other side of the glass doorway, looking hilariously normal with his hair wind blown and Mjolnir at his side, dressed in civilian clothing like he’d just been for a stroll through a breezy Central Park.

He burst through the doors with a wide smile on his face. “Friends! How are you today?” He set Mjolnir down and toed off his shoes while everyone chorused their own hellos.

Then, once he’d stood up again, his eyes settled on Steve and he smiled even wider. “I’m glad you are all well.” He strode over to the couch and took a seat directly beside Steve, dipping the cushions enough that Steve slid partially into his side. The room tensed but Thor just plowed on. “And Jane sends her regards. She was unable to come due to a project she assures is of the utmost importance.”

“Well, that’s certainly understandable.” Pepper smiled, taking over for everyone else’s silence. “Will you be seeing her again before you head aback to Asgard?”

“That is the plan. She and lady Darcy are driving to another lab and I am to meet them there in a week’s time.”

“A week?” Clint grinned. “Then you’ll be around for movie night? We can torture you with more Midgardian culture?”

Thor nodded, face far too earnest for Clint’s teasing comment. “I will be there.”

Bucky felt Steve relax minutely against him and Thor apparently felt it as well, because he turned to Steve and placed a hand on his knee. “Will you be joining in the festivities as well, Steven?”

The entire room sucked in a breath and Steve shrugged. “Maybe. If the movie’s good.”

Thor hummed thoughtfully. “I understand. There is no enjoyment in a poorly told tale.” He leaned forward a bit more and looked around to everyone in the room as he explained, “On Asgard, storytelling is considered a great skill, for there is no triumph in battle that one does not share at the feast afterwards.”

“So you’ve told your fair share of tales then, Thor?” Sam grinned. “Care to share a little something with us commoners?”

“You are mighty warriors, all of you.” Thor contradicted. “There is hardly a tale I could tell that would surpass the one which we shared together.”

“With that brother of yours? Not likely.” Tony said.

Thor was silent for a beat, the line of his shoulders going tense before relaxing again. “Some stories are not mine to tell.” He shook his head as if to clear it then leaned back a bit in his seat with a determined smile on his face. “But we do have time in need of filling and if a story is what you want then a story you shall have.”

Everyone agreed that some Asgardian story time would be appreciated so Thor nodded and started to think of which one he should tell. Bruce had already flicked off the TV so the room was quiet as they waited for Thor to gather his thoughts. Natasha’s book was lying open on the floor and Tony’s work was lying half-forgotten in his lap. Steve was as statuesque as ever.

Finally, Thor took a breath and began his tale, voice deep and resonate as it shaped each word into something tangible, creating a web of images that captured the attention of everyone in the room. It was a story of heroes and monsters, raging waters and shadowy valleys.

As time passed, Steve ended up beneath one of Thor’s arms, listening silently as Thor gesticulated above his shoulders. His eyes drooped slightly but never closed, too involved in the story to let himself sleep. But when Thor’s tale had ended and the room devolved into smaller conversations he had no such motivation and he dozed plaint and soft between the two larger men.

Feeling confident that Steve was comfortable with Thor, Bucky got up and made a quick trip to the bathroom. He wasn’t surprised when he came back to see Steve curled up to Thor’s side and fast asleep. In all honestly he had kind of seen it coming and was grateful for the opportunity for Steve to practice letting his guard down around the others.

But Thor looked at him with a question in his eyes as he took his place at Steve’s side. “He sleeps like a warrior after battle, with a heaviness that can be matched by no other cause.”

And yeah, Bucky supposed the description fit. Because Steve was fighting a mental battle every day, and last round had been especially brutal.

“It was a rough night,” Bucky said. “But he really wanted to see you and I wasn’t going to tell him no.” He pushed a strand of hair behind Steve’s ear and confessed, “I was worried about getting him to sleep at all today, so I suppose I should say thanks.”

Thor shook his head. “I’m glad my tale could provide him some relief. He has been through more than any one man could imagine.”

The room fell into a heavy silence at Thor’s words. It still upset all of them to think of what Steve had been through, what Hydra had been willing to do to another human. It was sickening. And if during Steve’s time in Asgard there had been a sudden unauthorized surge of exploding Hydra bases coinciding with the mysterious disappearances of some Avengers, well, no one could prove anything.

Just as the air in the room truly began to darken, Steve let out a tiny mewl and shifted position, sliding down so his head was pillowed on Thor’s legs and pushing his feet against Bucky’s thigh until Bucky settled them firmly in his lap. Then, finally comfortable, he went still.

Another moment of silence filled the room, much lighter than the last, until Sam said, “Okay, I’m sorry but that was adorable” and they all relaxed completely.

“It was pretty cute.” Natasha smirked.

Bucky scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Please,” He said. “Steve is _always_ cute. But don’t say that to his face or he’ll probably punch you.”

“Don’t call the super assassin cute.” Clint deadpanned. “Noted.”

Bucky tensed a bit at the joke but when Steve just let out a soft snore he allowed himself a smile. “Hey, even back when we were kids Steve could do a lot of damage. Two boys in the grade above us once called him a ‘pretty little thing’ and he gave them both bloody noses and a black eye before they roughed him up enough for me to step in.”

“Scrappy for a little guy,” Tony mused. “I like it.”

Bucky smiled tightly. “Yeah, Steve was always real tough. Didn’t let anything knock him down for too long.” The room became silent again and Bucky cleared his throat. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get all depressing.”

Bruce shook his head. “It’s fine, Bucky. It’s…nice, actually, to hear you talk about Steve.”

“It’s a good way to cope, too.” Sam said. “Might even help Steve if he ever feels up to listening.”

Which okay, yeah, he’d read all the books about moving on and grieving back when he’d first been defrosted. He knew he was supposed to be talking about things, reliving and celebrating his past with Steve rather than bottling it up or pretending it never happened. But it was still hard sometimes. Harder now that Steve was back. Because he never, ever wanted Steve to get the impression that Bucky liked the old him more.

But whenever he brought up anything from their past, Steve would just listen quietly and take it all in, contributing his own memories if they were there. So maybe it wasn’t too much of a stretch to believe Steve would be okay talking about these kinds of memories too. And he was asleep at the moment regardless.

Putting a hand on Steve’s ankle to ground himself, Bucky looked around the room. “I don’t think my story will be quite as exciting as Thor’s, but…” He lowered his voice and rubbed his thumb against Steve’s warm skin. “I know I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Sam took the opportunity to grin, “Now _that_ was fucking adorable.”

Trying to control his blush, Bucky kept his eyes trained on Steve’s face as he began, “Back before the war, Steve and I took a day and went to Coney Island. I made him ride the Cyclone… Poor guy threw up everywhere.”

 

\---+---+---+---

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had more planned but then about a thousand other things happened and this most definitely fell to the wayside. Therefore…I'm posting what I have and I may or may not return to it someday^^
> 
> But yeah, thanks for reading!


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